


we've got chemistry (i've got my ion you)

by taare



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bad Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bad Puns, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, bad joke Kya, recommended reading: your high school science textbook, so many bad puns, they're all nerds your honor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taare/pseuds/taare
Summary: High School Science Teacher AU. Kya won't stop pestering Lin with terrible puns and even worse pick-up lines. Lin isn't into it. Sheisn't.—"I always used to wonder why Uranium and Iodine were so far apart,” Kya comments idly.“They have totally different properties,” Lin replies, perplexed. “Why would they be even remotely close to each othe—”“Because if I could rearrange the elements, I’d put U and I together,” she finishes, breath warm on Lin’s cheek, tickling her ear.“You’re a menace,” Lin says, though her tone is less biting than she’d like.—Background feat. Korrasami and the Krew in high school, now with 100% more Izumi
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato, Lin Beifong/Kya II, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 142
Kudos: 361





	1. 8, 8, 15, 16

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greeksalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeksalad/gifts).



> Hello!
> 
> If you're revisiting this work, please start with Chapter 1! This story has been restructured and rewritten (and is currently sitting at 20k, please help), so please enjoy two full chapters of (mostly) new content.  
> —  
> I blame the kyalin krew for this in its entirety. Much love to @greeksalad for their amazing fics and for getting me started with this nonsense in the first place. Thanks also to @froopsen for the incredibly helpful beta of the update!

As always, Izumi wins this argument. 

Every year, Lin tries to get out of going to the annual Republic City Academy back to school teacher’s bash, and every year, Izumi whines and cajoles her into attending _just one last time, please, for my sake._ Lin hates parties like these, finds them uncomfortable and superficial and just plain boring.

On the bright side, at least there’s an open bar. 

She nearly misses Su calling her name as she walks into the ballroom, beckoning her towards the section cordoned off for special events. 

Luxury hotel by day, charming ballroom and bar by night, _The Spirit World_ was home to former seamen’s quarters that had since been converted into significantly more posh accommodations. Four chandeliers ensconce the space in a warm orange-yellow glow, small groups mingling amidst the scattered chaise longues and coffee tables. Potted bamboo palms dot the floor, stretching halfway to the ornately trimmed ceiling above. It’s unsurprisingly crowded for a Saturday, and Lin is glad for the breathing room in their more private space. 

“You came,” Su says warmly, reaching forward to draw Lin into a reluctant hug. “I didn’t think you would.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Lin grumbles, glancing at the woman leaning on the table next to her sister. “A certain _principal_ made me do it.” 

Izumi shrugs. “Yeah, you didn’t,” she replies. “You _know_ this is our tradition — no exceptions. Compensation for subjecting ourselves to eight hours a day with broody teenagers and broodier teachers. It’s the least the school can do since we trade our sanity for a paycheck every month. Besides,” she continues, “I’ve never known you to turn away free booze —”

“You’re right,” Lin deadpans. “So what does that say about the company?” 

“Oh, don’t lie, Lin, you _like_ them,” Su laughs. “You _like_ the other teachers. You pretend you don’t, but I refuse to believe you’d have stuck around for _eight years_ if you hated them as much as you claim you do.”

Su’s right, but Lin will take that particular fact to her grave. If Tarrlok’s pompous blathering and even Tenzin’s long-winded rambling had grown on her over the years… well, that was for her to know and absolutely no one else to find out. 

“Yeah, and we’re getting a few new ones,” Izumi says. “Including that biology teacher I mentioned, Lin.” 

Lin twists sharply to face Izumi. “What new biology teacher?” she demands. 

“Don’t you read your emails?” 

“Over the summer?” 

“Of course you don’t,” Izumi sighs, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. Lin knows her well enough to recognize the signs of her friend quickly losing her patience. 

“Well, if you’d read them, you’d know. Zhu Li has been promoted to Vice Principal, which left the high school biology position vacant. It was short notice, but I was able to pull some strings, get someone to fill in at the last minute —” 

“Zhu Li’s leaving?” Lin interrupts. All that work, planning a curriculum, making sure that students had a seamless transition from their first high school science class to their next… everything, down the drain. To be replaced by the fifth biology teacher in as many years. 

“Not leaving, becoming Vice Principal. Are you listening to me?” 

“I am,” Lin says, voice rising. “And if you were listening to _me,_ you’d know that having some stability in the role would help me plan my year better. It doesn’t help if we have some bumbling newbie in every year, barely learning where the little knives for dissections are stored before being replaced. At least Zhu Li was mildly competent,” she complained. 

“I _know_ ,” Izumi says sharply. “But she applied for the promotion and was more than qualified. It’s frustrating for me, too. You think I enjoy hiring a new teacher this often? Good ones are so hard to find.”

“I know it’s a lot of work,” Izumi relents, “but I trust you to make it work. I think you’ll get along with the new hire, maybe you could show her around, take her under your wing? I asked her to come today, maybe the two of you could meet —” 

“I’m not interested in being a babysitter,” Lin cuts in. She knows she’s being difficult, can’t seem to help it. 

Izumi is reaching her breaking point. “Lin, no one is asking you to do that. Be reasonable. And just… play nice?”

Lin doesn’t want to play nice, doesn’t want to get a brand new teacher up to speed. She wants Zhu Li back. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she announces. If she stays, she’s going to say something she regrets. “Anyone for a refill?”

Izumi shakes her head and raises her glass, still three quarters full. 

Lin looks at Su, following her gaze down to her cup. It’s filled with... water? 

“You’re not drinking tonight?” And Lin knows, puts the pieces together as soon her sister beams up at her. 

“Well, Baatar and I did want to wait a little bit longer before telling people, but…” Su says, lowering her voice even though nobody could possibly overhear in this din. “Since it’s just you two, I suppose we could make an exception. I’m pregnant!” she finishes, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I think this one’s a girl,” she whispers conspiratorially. 

Su, who already has Baatar Jr. and Huan at home, seems bent on assembling the postcard-perfect family she never had growing up. Just another example of how she’s outpacing Lin on all of life’s milestones, with her steady job, gorgeous house, surprisingly handsome husband, and ever-expanding brood. Another reminder that Su will always be Toph’s golden child, shining bright once again. 

Lin really needs that drink. 

* * *

Kya is late. 

Not that that’s surprising, as anyone who knows her would attest. In fact, it’s more likely than her running early. Or on time. 

It’s not like she hasn’t tried before — showing up on schedule, that is — but she somehow always finds herself behind, little tasks taking longer than she’d planned, minute distractions adding up and tipping the scales firmly towards _tardy._

This time is a little more unforgivable — she thought she’d been clever, booking a room in the same hotel as the evening’s event when informed her apartment wasn’t move-in ready yet. The party is quite literally downstairs, and it started half an hour ago. 

Better late than never. She’s promised Izumi that she’d show up, though, and Kya is nothing if not a woman of her word. 

She checks her dress in the mirror one final time: a pretty blue number conveniently at the intersection of _makes me feel good_ and _work-appropriate._ Satisfied, Kya quickly texts her friend to expect her before making her way down. 

Izumi looks almost identical to her younger self, the only obvious difference the now-graying strands of her formerly jet-black hair. The look combined with her traditional top knot makes her seem older, more distinguished, a far cry from the carefree exchange student Kya remembered from college. 

“‘zumi!” Kya says delightedly. “It’s been too long.” 

“I could say the same,” Izumi says, smiling and setting down her drink to embrace her. “Do you know how hard it was to get a hold of you? Every time I thought I’d saved down the right phone number, you’d moved again! I had to resort to asking Tenzin for your details.” 

“You couldn’t email me?” 

“I figured asking you to move halfway across the world on two weeks’ notice was a conversation best suited for a phone call, forgive me.”

Kya laughs. “Fair enough. After Agna Q’ela, I wanted to see more of the world. Thank the gods for international schools, is all I can say.” She turns to the woman standing next to Izumi. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. Kya Gyatso, new recruit and biology teacher extraordinaire.” 

The shorter woman shakes her hand. “Suyin Beifong, Drama. Is what I teach, but well, also what I’ve been known to cause. You can call me Su.” 

Kya grins widely. “I _like_ you. ‘zumi, you have good taste in friends.” 

“Speaking of, there is one more person I’d like you to meet, but I’m not sure where she’s sulked off to —”

“Oh, forget her,” Su says. “I want to hear more from you, Kya. You mentioned you knew our dear principal here in college? What was she like? Stories, I need stories! With details!”

“Absolutely not. Kya, I forbid it.” 

“Well, there _was_ that time on Ember Island...” Kya begins wickedly, and if looks could kill, she’s sure Izumi’s eyes would have struck her down with lightning already. 

* * *

Before she knows it, it’s an hour later and Kya is emptying the dregs from the carafe into her cup. “Anyone up for more?” 

“I really shouldn’t,” Izumi says. “Not if I want to wake up without a raging headache tomorrow.”

“Still victim to those killer wine hangovers, I see,” Kya observes. 

“Unfortunately,” Izumi groans. “You should get yourself some, though. The open bar closes soon.” 

Kya considers it. “I think I might. I definitely deserve it after staying up writing those lesson plans all of last week.” She turns, scanning the room. “Where’s the bar?” 

“The closest one is just around the corner, behind that wall. Careful of the step.” 

“Thanks,” Kya says, making her way through the people thronging to get one last drink in. Sure enough, the bar is recessed into the ground, a single step separating the seating area from floor level. A great design if you have a contract with your local orthopedist. 

She glances at the liquor license: _Buildings by Baatar._ Some architect he was. 

She manages to get a refill at the bar, feeling proud of navigating the crowds when she realizes she’s forgotten to tip the bartender. Pitcher in one hand, she reaches into her purse when — 

That damned step. 

She sees it happen in slow motion, both she and the drink flying, red liquid sloshing comically through the air and landing squarely on an unfortunate soul seated at the bar. Her hands have steadied themselves in someone’s lap, she realizes, and she feels, rather than sees, a sticky hand helping her stand back up. 

It’s a woman. A gorgeous woman. Who’s very wet. And… smiling? 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands.

No, that isn’t a smile, that’s a snarl. She’s mad. Really mad. She’s hot when she’s angry, Kya’s lizard brain supplies. 

_“What did you just say?”_

Which the rest of Kya’s brain has apparently then spoken out loud. Kya claps her hand to her mouth, dropping the pitcher. 

“Shit, I’m — I didn’t mean to say that,” she backtracks, mortified. 

“Listen, if this is some kind of bizarre come on —” 

“It’s not, it was an accident —” 

“You can’t see where you’re going?!” 

“Okay lady, I already apologized, I’m not going to do it again —” 

“My outfit is completely _ruined_ —” and she’s not wrong. Kya’s eyes scan upwards. Pieces of assorted damp fruit stain her trousers, courtesy of the sangria. More crucially, the tailored white shirt she’s wearing now sports an unmissable deep red stain, the wine slowly seeping through the delicate fabric. 

Shit. 

“Shit,” she echoes out loud. “I think I have a jacket you can use, it’s…” she trails off. She’d left her jacket in her room, since she didn’t need it for the short stint in the elevator. “It’s in my room,” she finishes lamley. 

“And what use is that for me?” she growls, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Kya soon realizes why — the stains are rapidly rendering entire swathes of material see-through. And while this woman clearly has nothing to be ashamed of, the chiseled curl of her arms drawing attention to the defined lines of her ab— this was _not the time._

She clears her throat. “Um. My room is upstairs. I think you’re about my size; we could grab you a change of clothes?” 

“And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you after this?” 

“It’s either come with me or get a cab looking like that, so I’ll take my chances.” She doesn’t mean to be petty about it, but something about this lady is getting under her skin. It was an accident, she’d apologized. What crawled up her pants and died? 

For her part, the woman seems to be genuinely considering her options, eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. She seems to come to the more rational conclusion. 

“Fine. But you’re paying for dry cleaning.” 

“Are you really in a position to be negotiating right now?” Kya retorts, and the woman looks like she would like nothing better than to bury Kya alive this very moment. 

Kya leads the way. She feels a prickle at the back of her neck, knows she’s being stared at, but forces herself not to glance backwards. She doesn’t speak until the elevator arrives. 

“Like I said, I’m really sorry. Can you at least tell me your name?” the words tumble out, quick and embarrassed. “I actually will pay for that dry cleaning.” 

The woman is standing on the far edge of the elevator, as far as humanly possible in a tiny enclosed box. She eyes Kya disdainfully. 

“Lin,” she says, after a beat. Kya is so surprised to hear her volunteer the information, she nearly doesn’t catch it the first time. 

“Lin, then. I’m Kya. I’d also say I’m usually not that clumsy but I don’t think you’d believe me.” 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Is that a hint of a smile? It couldn’t be. 

The elevator dings to a stop. 

“My floor,” Kya declares, gesturing towards the hallway. “Room 421.” They trudge forwards in silence, Kya swiping the magnetic key and propping open the door. 

“Hold on just a second,” she says, flipping on the lights before ducking into the separate bedroom to hunt for suitable replacement outfits for her guest. 

* * *

Lin takes advantage of Kya’s momentary disappearance to examine her surroundings. There’s a disconcerting amount of baggage — way more than necessary for a trip of a few days, or even a few weeks — but the room itself is fairly tidy. 

She leans against the divider separating the small kitchen from the rest of the living room. Her shirt is well and truly ruined; she’s not sure if any amount of laundering will be able to save it. Even more awkwardly, the outline of her tan no-nonsense bra is clearly visible underneath. She should have known better than to tempt fate by wearing white tonight. 

Lin loosens the top of her shirt, opening it enough to peel the sticky fabric away from her chest. She instantly feels a slight breeze on her skin, warm and comfortable, and pops open a third button. 

She’s reveling in the newfound sensation when Kya emerges from the bedroom with a set of clothes in tow. She’d changed out of her own outfit, Lin notes absently, from the slinky blue dress into a graphic tee and tight dark wash jeans. She’s let her hair down, dark and long against her back. The softer look lets her striking features — long, rich eyelashes; smooth, brown skin; full, maroon lips — take center stage. It suits her, Lin thinks, perhaps even more than the eveningwear. 

She squints to read the text on the t-shirt: _I take cell-fies._ What? 

“Enjoying the view?” Kya smirks. Lin shifts uneasily at the implications of her staring. 

“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, no, I wasn’t star— just give me that,” leaning to catch the bundle Kya throws her way. For a second, she thinks she catches Kya’s eyes on her exposed collarbone, remembering too late that she’s at least two open buttons away from propriety. 

“I, uh, didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with borrowing a bra, so I tossed a fresh one in, but you can also just, um. Not wear one.” There’s something oddly charming about Kya’s discomfort, about the way this obviously confident woman is stammering her way through half-finished sentences. 

“I’ll keep mine on, thanks.” She peeks at Kya’s options for her: a warm, forest green long sleeved turtleneck, a white oversize cable-knit sweater, another graphic tee, a pair of plain jeans, and a cozy pair of black sweatpants. Everything warm and practical, in a variety of sizes. 

“Thanks,” she repeats, more genuinely. “One of these should work.” Lin glances around the room. “Where can I change?” 

“The bathroom is in the bedroom; light switch is outside. I’ll, uh, be right here if you need anything.” 

“I think I’ll be fine,” Lin says, amused. The bedroom has no lock — typical hotel suite — but the bathroom is too cramped to change comfortably. She shucks her damp clothes and wets a towel to dab the stickiness away. The hair dryer works in a pinch to spot dry her bra before she returns to the bedroom, leaning against the bed to try to wrangle herself into the jeans. 

It’s in a similar state to the living room, she observes — beyond a coffee mug that proclaims “STAPH” and a day old newspaper, there isn’t much to indicate that someone lives here. She finds herself idly wondering what Kya is in town for; how long she’s staying before returning home. 

Fastening the denim — tighter than her usual fit — she settles on the turtleneck as her top. The buttery soft wool looks tantalizingly inviting, and, well, Lin’s always considered green her color. If she has to go, she might as well go in style. 

Except. While she and Kya appear the same size on the surface, she hadn’t factored in the lack of give in the sleeves. They slide smoothly down her forearms only to get caught at her biceps, while her head is already wrapped in the overlapping layers of the turtleneck. She couldn’t extricate her head without pulling down the sleeves all the way, and she couldn’t pull down the sleeves without risk of them ripping. 

This had to be her darkest moment. Lin Beifong, laid low by a sweater. 

She sighs. 

And accepts defeat. 

“Kya?” 

The response is immediate. “Yes?” 

“I may. Um. Need your help.” 

She thinks she hears a brief chuckle before a gentle knocking on the door. “May I come in?” 

“Yes,” Lin grumbles. 

The door squeaks open, and Kya is definitely laughing now, an all out guffaw.

“Are you stuck?” she gasps out, in between gales of amusement. 

“What do you think?” Lin asks, exasperated. 

“I’m wondering how you managed to get yourself trapped in a turtleneck.” 

“Shush.” 

“I mean, really, for all the talk about _my_ clumsiness —”

“Stop it.”

“...seems like you forgot to mention yours —” 

“Are you going to help me out of here or not?” 

“Patience,” Kya says, as she shuffles towards the bed. Lin feels her futilely attempt to rescue her from the side, then from the back by climbing on the bed. The angle’s all wrong; it doesn’t work. 

“I’m just going to —” Kya straddles Lin, placing both hands on Lin’s forearms in an attempt to loosen the fabric on the sleeves. For just a moment, Lin feels Kya’s right hand slip to her stomach to steady herself, palm soft and warm before it’s replaced at her arm. 

“And the final piece,” Kya says, tugging the turtleneck over Lin’s head. 

“I can — I think I got this part,” Lin says, a little out of breath from the exertion. Except now, she has an unobstructed view of Kya, who is — wow, if Kya is pretty at a distance, she’s stunning up close. And she is. Very, very close. Close enough to count those eyelashes she’d noticed earlier, the ones that are driving her to distraction now. 

Lin’s sure she’s not breathing by now. Does she even remember how? Does she really need air? It feels immaterial at the moment. 

“I — I think you do,” Kya affirms. Her hands are still on Lin’s, legs still straddling her own, and Lin wonders if she can feel her escalating pulse under her fingertips. Feel the warmth pooling in her stomach.

“I — what?”

“I think you got it now,” Kya reiterates. Lin can feel Kya’s breath ghost her lips. She smells like mint and wine. If Kya doesn’t step away this moment, Lin might do something she’ll regret. 

Kya doesn’t move. Is she as hypnotized as Lin?

It doesn’t matter. Lin kisses her anyway. 

* * *

For one briefly horrifying moment, Kya loosens her grips on Lin’s hands, nearly pulls away, and Lin is convinced she’s about to be kicked out of this very nice hotel room half-dressed and devoid of any reasonable explanations for her friend and sister. 

But the Kya redoubles her grasp, sinks in, warm and molten and sinful and Lin is putty under her ministrations. Lin tastes the tartness of the wine, the sweetness of the fruit, the heady combination intensified by Kya’s tongue gently cajoling her mouth open. Kya’s thighs wrap around Lin’s, coaxing their bodies closer, and a frisson of desire sparks up her legs, taking root in the heat building there. A moan escapes Lin’s unwitting lips. Kya pulls her closer. 

At this point, Lin doesn’t remember what she’s forgotten. The things that made the night so unbearable — Su’s pregnancy, Zhu Li’s promotion, Izumi’s new hire — lay forgotten at the threshold of this bedroom, a slate wiped clean by Kya’s awfully talented fingers. 

* * *

Lin stirs, squeezing her eyes shut then blinking herself to wakefulness. It’s not quite morning, early rays of the dawning sun peeking through the half-shut blinds. This isn’t her bed, this isn’t her room, where is— 

Oh. Right. 

She hadn’t intended to fall asleep here. But one thing had led to another, and by the end of the night, all of Lin’s stamina had evaporated, alongside any desire to do anything but sleep for the next fourteen hours. 

She gingerly extracts herself from underneath the blanket in which Kya is still nestled, looking for all the world like a cherubim having a really bad hair day. Brown locks are everywhere, carpeting her own pillow and even portions of Lin’s. Her face is obscured, bare arms outstretched to her side. If Lin doesn’t move, she might do something stupid, like kiss her awake. 

Sober, daytime Lin is evidently more rational than Lin from last night, so she sets on a course to gather her belongings and finally leave this blasted hotel. 

Hunting for her clothes in the dark proves challenging, but she rounds up what she can find and changes in the living room. She’d learned her lesson last night, swapping the turtleneck for the graphic tee. _AT/GC_ , this one said, a double helix where the slash should be. Was Kya some kind of indie band fan? 

Her bra is nowhere to be found, but Lin grabs the remainder of her outfit from last night and stuffs it into a plastic carry bag by the door. On the coffee table by her purse lies a hotel notepad and pen, to-do list scribbled on the first page. 

Lin hesitates, then rips a blank sheet from the pad. 

_Thanks for the clothes_ , she writes. _I can return them tonight at the front desk._

She pauses. How honest does she want to be? Does she ever want to see this woman again? 

Last night had been… many things. Kya had seen through the charade, deigned to help her even where Lin’s brusque manner would have put most off. Lin can still feel the phantom twist in her gut as she remembers what it felt like to have her close, at her mouth, between her legs. Things she hasn’t felt since… since her last relationship. 

Yes, it would be nice to see Kya again. 

She scrawls a postscript: _I had a good time last night. See you again?_ and appends her phone number before she loses her nerve. She sticks the note right on the front door, where she’s certain it can’t be missed. 

Taking one last look at the empty room, she steps into the hallway and calls a cab.


	2. 27, 49, 48, 7, 6, 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If you're revisiting this fic (and haven't read Chapter 1 since the update), please go back and do so! This will probably make very little sense otherwise :)

Even after nearly a decade of teaching, Lin still looks forward to the first day of school. While most teachers dread the inherent disorganization of wrangling confused children (and only slightly less confused adults) while attempting to follow a meticulously crafted schedule, Lin thrives in the chaos.

If she’d been a teacher with a less fearsome reputation for militaristic discipline (she’d found _Chief_ — the students’ nickname for her — both amusing and not undeserved), she’d likely find the task nigh on impossible too. But at this point in her career, her reputation precedes her. Her students know her expectations; they know better than to mess with the Chief. 

Then there’s the matter of the hours, the school bell at eight am sharp sparing no one, teachers and students alike. Once again, most people don’t _voluntarily_ wake up at six am on their days off, many teachers preferring to sleep in on the rare days they can afford to. The adjustment back to the rhythm of school life can take some time. 

Luckily, Lin has never had this issue, because Lin Beifong is a morning person. 

She’s been this way for as long as she can remember — as a child, it frequently meant waking up before her mother and sister, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets in an attempt to rustle up breakfast. As an adult, it means an alarm set for precisely 5:45 am ( _exclusively_ as a backup, thank you very much) — always ringing _after_ she’s out of bed and already downstairs setting the coffee to brew. 

With her lifeblood for the day taken care of, the next hour is dedicated to actually waking up — morning exercise. A habit picked up during martial arts classes from when she was younger, she’d kept it up, finding it the best way to preemptively expend her frustration at dealing with several dozen teenagers on a daily basis. 

Sweat beads on her forehead as she sinks deeper into the stance, muscles protesting yet holding firm. Perhaps in another lifetime, she might have had another calling — as firefighter, athlete, fitness instructor — but in this one, teaching had called louder. 

Anyway, that leaves fifteen minutes to shower, a luxury cut down to five if she’s running late. Another five to dress in the outfit prepped for the day (more of a uniform, if she was being honest — there aren’t enough hours in the day to spend on something as frivolous as picking out the ideal outfit). Twenty to calmly finish breakfast (eggs and toast and coffee, black) before grabbing her keys and starting her car.

If she isn’t running late (and Lin Beifong does _not_ run late), she arrives with roughly fifteen minutes to spare in good traffic. Fifteen minutes of silence in her space to prepare for the day. Fifteen _blessed_ minutes with no students before homeroom begins at 8:00 am sharp. 

Then the bell rings, and pandemonium arrives.

* * *

In honor of the first day of school, the entire high school is gathered in the auditorium, waiting to be addressed in a special assembly. Lin corrals her homeroom into their seats as they await the principal’s arrival. 

Izumi looks dignified as always in her sharp pantsuit, fitted black blazer layered over a silk brocade blouse. Lin remembers the gangly woman she’d befriended nearly fifteen years ago; marvels at how she’s blossomed into the assured woman standing before them today. College Izumi had trouble addressing crowds. Today’s Izumi could handle an entire theater filled with the most terrifying audience — middle schoolers. 

Feedback from the microphone at the podium reverberates through the room as Izumi clears her throat. At least now she has everyone’s attention. 

“Republic City Academy High School,” she begins cheerfully. “Welcome to the new year! We’re excited to have all of you with us. Especially you, freshmen, joining us for the first time after graduating middle school.

“As Republic City’s leading private school, we have a lot in store for you this year. We’ll keep some of the same traditions, like the Winter Formal and Senior Prom, but we’re going to build some new ones as well. Keep your eyes peeled for notices about a spate of brand new clubs and activities, all sponsored by some of your favorite teachers.” Izumi spots Lin in the crowd and winks. Lin has to restrain an audible groan. 

“Before we go, I’d like to introduce you to some old faces, as well as a few new faces! Please give a warm welcome to Zhu Li Moon, former biology teacher, and your new Assistant Principal!” A round of applause from the students — Zhu Li was quiet but popular, and had made an impact in just the short year she’d been around. 

“Replacing Ms. Moon, please say an RCA hello to our new biology teacher. Ms. Gyatso, would you mind coming out here?” 

Lin straightens in her seat out of curiosity, trying to get a better glimpse of the woman joining the science department, who will also share Lin’s office between their joined classrooms. Sitting fairly far back, all she can see at first is a tall, tan silhouette with long dark hair, tied back in a ponytail with a high bun, and her face—

It’s at this moment that Lin desperately wishes she could summon the strength to be swallowed into the earth, because the new teacher isn’t a stranger as she’d feared. No, it’s somehow worse. The new teacher is _Kya._

* * *

It’s impossible to pay attention to any of the remaining introductions after this revelation, because really, how could she? Kya — who had spilled her drink on Lin, had lent her own clothes to Lin, had kissed Lin, had _slept with_ Lin, hadn’t bothered to call Lin back after... _that_ Kya is standing here. Here. At her place of work. As her newest colleague. 

Lin will admit she’s new to one-night stands; that she doesn’t know all the rules and etiquette yet. But she’s pretty sure that the rules of the universe dictate that they’re not supposed to reappear in her life again like this, especially in this unannounced, _very_ unwelcome way. 

She entirely misses Izumi’s dismissal, standing up only when one of her students asks if they can head back yet. She glances back up at the podium, and sees Kya heading the same way. Maybe there’s an alternate corridor she can use — 

“Ms. Beifong?” a student asks. She turns, finds she recognizes this face; Zhu Li had spoken highly of her. 

“Asami Sato, right?“ Asami ducks her head, clearly pleased to have been recognized. 

“Yes,” she says. “Are you okay? It’s just, we’re going the wrong way —” 

Gods. She needs to pay attention or she’s going to be eaten alive today. 

“I’m fine, thank you, Asami. We can just, um, take the long way around. It’ll be less crowded.” Her students follow her diligently. 

Lin knows she’s just postponing the inevitable, but if she can stall at least until first period, she won’t have to make conversation until after her morning classes end.

But why would the fates grant her a break now, after all? 

“Ms. Beifong!” Izumi’s voice cuts through the din. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Shepherding the last of her students into the classroom, she steps into the doorway. “Yes?”

“I know I mentioned this on Saturday, but you kind of — disappeared.” Izumi looks at her oddly for a moment, then carries on. “I have to go facilitate some other introductions, but would you mind showing Ky— er, Ms. Gyatso — around today?” 

“Like I told you, I’m not interested in being a babysitter, Izumi.” 

“Lin.” Lin knows this tone, hates this tone. It’s Izumi’s principal voice. “That was not a request. Please stop being difficult and do your job.” 

“Fine, Principal Sei’naka,” she says petulantly. “I’ll do it.” 

“Good, because here she is—”

* * *

Today has been some kind of day. 

Kya had made sure to wake up early, determined to be on time for her first day of school. Things had run smoothly until her landlord called, letting her know the keys wouldn’t be ready until the weekend. Great. She’d need to take up Tenzin’s offer to crash at his place, toddler and newborn daughter notwithstanding. Thanks to the interruption, she’d shown up halfway through Izumi’s speech, luckily arriving before her position was announced. 

After the assembly, Izumi introduced her to her new class and guided them back to their homeroom. 

“As you already know, you’re sharing an office with our chemistry teacher, Ms. Beifong,” she said. 

“Beifong?”

“Su’s sister, actually. I’d like you to meet her — let me get her, just a second.”

She hears her name and steps outside. Kya’s not sure what she expected as she emerges through the door of her own classroom, but it’s certainly not — 

“Lin?” 

Lin. Lin Beifong. Suyin’s sister, Izumi’s college friend, and the woman whose _tongue had been in her mouth two nights ago_. And now, she could now add chemistry teacher at Republic City Academy to the list of titles. Because who needs a fresh start at a new job, when you can unwittingly sleep with your closest colleague instead? 

Kya brings her hand up to massage her temple. Today has already been a day, and _she does not have time for this._

Izumi’s face betrays her surprise. “You two know each other?” 

_Only in the biblical sense_ , she manages to avoid saying. “Uh, just passing acquaintances,” she covers. “We met briefly at Saturday’s party.” 

“I didn’t know,” Izumi says. “I meant to introduce you two that night, but I couldn’t find —” 

“No worries,” Lin cuts in. “We’re all here now. Thanks, Izumi, we can take it from here.” Izumi finds herself all but dismissed, and Kya is secretly grateful. She knows Izumi, could see the wheels turning in her head, and knows it was only a matter of time and a few probing questions before the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“You work at Republic City Academy?” Kya hisses, moving into the blind spot between the two classrooms, out of view of the students. 

“ _You_ work at RCA?” Lin retorts hotly. “You didn’t say!” 

“If I recall correctly, there wasn’t a lot of speaking —” 

“ _Shhhhh,”_ Lin shushes her. “Keep it down around the _children_ —” 

“You were there for the party,” Kya observes. 

“Obviously,” Lin drawls. “And so were you, evidently… but you still had a hotel room for some reason?” 

“I just moved to the city. Apartment wasn’t ready yet, and I didn’t want to bug Izumi right before the school year started. A hotel for the night was easiest,” she concludes.

“That explains the bags,” Lin mutters under her breath, mostly to herself. “I just assumed you were high maintenance.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing. You got your clothes back?” 

“Yeah, thanks. I picked them up at the front desk after you dropped them off.” 

“Then you saw my — why didn’t you —” Lin’s not making sense, not finishing her sentences.

“I’m not sure what you’re talki—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lin interrupts. “Find me if you have any questions that weren’t covered in your orientation. I’m sure Izumi’s given you the tour; you shouldn’t really need me for much,” she says, turning dismissively. 

The rude woman from the bar was back. Kya can’t resist one last dig. 

“By the way, I have your bra.” Lin wheels around, alarmed at the non-sequitur. 

“ _What?”_

“You left it in my room and never came to collect.” 

“Keep it,” Lin says firmly. 

“Oh?”

“You — you know what I mean,” she replies, tough girl act cracking for a split second, the faint trace of a flush dusting her cheeks. 

Kya sighs. This was going to be a _long_ year. 

Might as well enjoy herself along the way. 

* * *

The homeroom bell has rung, and Kya is nowhere to be found. 

Lin knows this, because she can see Kya’s students escalating slowly out of control through the door of their connected rooms. She also knows this because she’s been tracking Kya’s movements since that first fateful day, taking care to break for lunch only when Kya’s scheduled to teach, avoiding her in the hallways and studiously ignoring her in the staff room. Kya clearly didn’t want to see her again; had no intention of calling her after that night. Lin would respect that. 

The volume from next door is rising. 

“Quiet,” Lin barks, striding into the adjoining class. “You will stay here doing silent reading or homework until your teacher arrives. I don’t want to hear a _peep_ from here in the meantime, understood?” 

The students straighten in their seats, duly chastised. “Yes, Ms. Beifong,” they chant, singsong. 

She’s just gotten the situation under control when Kya deigns to show up, hair askew under her beanie, cheeks flushed and breathing shallowly, as if she’s run the whole distance from the parking lot. She’s holding two heavy-looking bags, one in each hand. Lin peeks at the label — formalin-soaked frogs for dissection, ew. 

“Hi class,” she greets. “So sorry I’m late.” The class giggles, their spell of good behavior broken. Damn it.

“Lin,” she nods, carrying the bags into their office, arms drooping with exhaustion. “Thanks for wrangling my kids — was just picking up this delivery for today’s dissection.” 

“Ms. Gyatso,” she begins. “You’re ten minutes late. It’s practically first period.” 

Kya rubs her temples, a sign that Lin is quickly learning indicates her growing frustration. “They got shipped to my apartment, but I’m staying with my brother for the moment. And his newborn has a set of lungs on her and —” she cuts herself off. Lin notices the darkening circles under her normally bright eyes; is reminded of nights spent babysitting Baatar Jr. and Huan and almost feels pity. 

“Anyway. I won’t keep you longer. You don’t want to see me around, I get the hint.”

And just like that, Lin’s goodwill evaporates as she’s reminded of the note she’d left, forsaking her pride in favor of vulnerability and getting radio silence in response. 

“Please handle your frogs, Ms. Gyatso, and ensure you’re on time in the future. I have a class to teach.” 

When Lin revisits this memory in the future, she’ll peg this moment as the origin of her worst nightmare. And while she doesn’t recognize it at the time… well, hindsight is twenty twenty. All the signs are there — Kya’s affinity for graphic tees, the various mugs she has littered around the office, a punchline she’s definitely pulled straight from some children’s website somewhere… at this point, Lin has no one but herself to blame for the birth of Bad Joke Kya. 

* * *

Kya can’t resist. Lin is avoiding her, she knows, using snark and sharp words as a defense mechanism against uncomfortable situations. But if she’s going to have to put up with this, if they’re going to survive as colleagues — 

“Oh come on. Don’t be so unhoppy. It’s not like I Kermit-ed a crime!” 

Lin’s eyes narrow. “Puns are the lowest form of humor, Ms. Gyatso.” 

A grin splits Kya’s face. Jackpot. 

“Aw, don’t look so des _pond_ ent. Can you _frog_ ive me?”

Lin groans audibly.

Oh, Kya is going to have so much fun with this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might have noticed the chapter count :) more to come in the next ~week. this rewrite was a tough one, so would especially appreciate any thoughts in the comments!


	3. 6, 71, 5, 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> izumi's got jokes, y'all. 
> 
> three chapters? in the same week? a holiday miracle! as a thank you for all the love you've shown, here's an early update in honor of the new year!

Lin’s unleashed a monster. 

There’s no other way to describe it. While she’d been successful at avoiding Kya almost entirely that first week, the past few weeks had brought on significantly more interactions. And with them, more of those horrendous _puns._

She gets the distinct feeling that Kya’s _teasing_ her, which… makes her feel some kind of way. Because it’s unprofessional, of course. Absolutely no other reason. Kya shouldn’t be poking fun of her in front of the _children._ She has her reputation to uphold, after all. She doesn’t have _time_ to be spending thinking about things unrelated to her work, and having Kya around makes life a whole lot harder. That’s all there is to it. 

Overall, though, Operation Avoid Kya has been a relative success, and Lin is confident in her ability to keep this up until one of them quits, dies, or both. 

At least, until Izumi steps in. 

Lin is no stranger to the feeling of hating her best friend’s guts, but she doesn’t think she’s ever been quite this furious. 

“I’m paired with _whom?_ ” Lin has stuck around after the staff meeting, cornering Izumi like a predator closing in on prey, intent on grilling Izumi on her newest little endeavor. 

“I know you heard me the first time, Lin,” she replies serenely, straightening the chairs in the teacher’s lounge and picking up pieces of leftover trash. “And there’s no way you’re getting around it. I’m still assigning you to lead a club with Kya.” She pauses to regard her friend curiously. “What is it with the two of you, anyway? I know you tend to keep to yourself but I’d have thought she’s more than friendly enough to cross that gap.”

 _We definitely crossed a lot of gaps,_ Lin’s brain supplies unhelpfully. 

“Huh?”

Oh shoot. Did she say that out loud? 

“Nothing,” Lin says hastily. “It’s just… just when I was finally settling down, when you hired someone I actually liked for the job, Zhu Li left. And I don’t know, there’s just… something about your friend. She’s too chipper. I don’t like it.”

Izumi flicks a candy wrapper at Lin, and it bounces off her head before landing on the ground. “Hey!” 

“Be serious! Your complaint is that she’s _too nice?_ ”

“Listen, I _—_ ,” Lin struggles to articulate. “We don’t get along, okay? Please don’t force me to spend extra time with her!” 

“Lin…” 

“Besides,” she searches desperately for a way out. “I teach chemistry. She teaches biology. Neither of those have anything to do with this… City of the Future competition.” 

“It’s a science and engineering competition,” Izumi explains calmly. “You’re both science teachers. Neither of you sponsor any other clubs. It just made sense.”

She tries a different tack. “Why not enlist Varrick instead?”

“Varrick, as you well know, is already leading the Robotics group. Remember, I was the one who hired both you and Kya. You’re both more than capable of mentoring a few students and building a model of a city. I trust you can be mature for five seconds and handle yourself?”

Lin sighs. She knows better than anyone that there’s no winning an argument once Izumi has made up her mind. Her fate is sealed. She’s resigned to sponsoring a club with her first and only one-night-stand-turned coworker. 

“What’s got you so worked up? Izumi studies her, and Lin has always been especially vulnerable to that searching gaze. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Oh. Oh no. Izumi _absolutely_ cannot find out what happened that night. 

“No there isn’t!” Lin protests quickly. “It’s bad enough that I have to share an office and a classroom wall with her. She’s disorganized, she drives me up a wall, and,” Lin counts off on her fingers. “And worst of all, I think she’s started cracking what _she_ thinks are funny jokes? Do you know what she said the other day?”

“What did she say?” Izumi asks, humoring her. 

“She asked if the reason Zhu Li was discharged as a science teacher was because she tried to unionize.”

Izumi frowns. “What? That makes no sense. Zhu Li wasn’t discharged, she was promoted, and all the teachers are unio— _ohhhhhh._ I get it.” She chuckles. “Hey, that was actually kind of funny.” 

Lin glowers. “You see what I have to put up with? You can’t make me work with her!” 

“I certainly can,” Izumi is still grinning. “Learning to work with people who have different styles is good for you. Builds character. Also, it just hit me,” she says thoughtfully, a pondering look in her eye. 

“Oh?”

“Maybe she makes bad science jokes because all the good ones Argon.”

“I’m going to _kill you —”_ Lin lunges towards Izumi. She sidesteps the feigned punch as Lin gets ready to leave. She folds in her middle two fingers, sticking her pinky, index, and thumb out before raising her hand to her eyes then pointing it at Izumi. The message is clear. _I’ve got my eyes on you._

Izumi just laughs. 

* * *

But it’s fine. Lin’s ready to do the work, to go it alone if at all possible. In fact, Lin is so certain she’ll need to single-handedly champion the competition efforts that she nearly smacks Kya upside the head with her bookbag the next morning. 

“What — who is — oh, it’s you,” Lin notes, bending to pick up the fallen items. Kya’s crouching next to her where she’d expertly ducked out of the way of Lin’s aim.

“ _Oh, it’s me?”_ Kya repeats, pushing off the ground to stand up. Lin absently notes just how _tall_ the other woman is. She’d really been an excellent big spoon — “What was that for?” 

“The light was on in my office! I thought it was an intruder!” 

“News flash: I know you don’t like me, but it’s _my office too!”_

“Yeah? And when was the last time you were here before me in the morning?” 

Crickets. “Well, you’ve got me there,” Kya admits, raising a hand to rub the back of her neck. Lin follows the line of her neck, remembers tracing it with her mouth, dotting it with feather-light kisses — 

She looks back down to pick up the last of her things. “Well, then, Ms. Gyatso? What _are_ you doing here?” 

“It’s just Kya, there are no kids around,” she corrects. “And I don’t think I need permission to be in my own office.”

Lin fixes her with a glare, noticing for the first time what her colleague is wearing. She’s dressed in her standard fare, except with glasses replacing the standard contact lenses. The frames soften her look, giving her normally youthful demeanour a more distinguished air. Lin is suddenly reminded of Izumi, back when she’d first gotten glasses — Lin hadn’t been able to look her in the eye for days, and maybe girls in glasses is her _type_ , _okay,_ that means nothing here. She promptly banishes the thought. 

“Fine,” Kya relents. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I also know that we need to work together on this club. And since you helped me out my first week by taking over my homeroom, I wanted to do something nice, make it up to you. If we’re going to be working together for real this year, might as well try to kick off on good terms.” 

Kya reaches toward her desk, grabbing a full coffee mug and handing it to Lin. “This is for you.” _I may look like I’m doing nothing,_ it proclaims, _but at a cellular level I’m quite busy._

Lin squints at Kya. Is this a prank? She turns over the possibility in her head, before deciding that the chances are slim, and suspiciously takes a tiny sip. 

A milky flavor engulfs her mouth, the tea with notes of ginger and lemongrass distinctly different from her usual brew. “This is… actually not bad.” 

Kya laughs. Lin’s never heard it before in such close quarters, the rich, lilting sound easily filling the small space. “No need to look so surprised. My dad’s old family recipe.” 

“I thought you were Water Tribe?” She immediately mentally chastises herself for making an assumption based solely on Kya’s skin tone and mode of dress. 

Kya looks at her. “Half,” she says, finally. “My father is Air Nomad. Both my parents moved to Republic City as kids; they met in university. I was born and raised here.”

Lin grips the cup tighter, feeling a little silly about her comment. The heat from the cup is a pleasant contrast to the gloomy clouds and darkening storm outside, settling deep and easy in her chest. “Oh. Well, it’s really good, thank you.” 

Kya is quiet for a beat before speaking. “You know, where my winning personality and excellent frog dissection jokes failed, I figured chai may stand a chance of winning you over. Although, it does make me wonder... “

“Oh no. Please don’t wonder.” 

“...if maybe I should have tried a chemistry joke to start.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“Huh. No reaction. I was going to make a sodium joke, but… na. Feel like it would just make you salty.” 

“That’s definitely my cue to leave.” 

“Forget hydrogen, you’re my number one!” Kya yells. Lin shuts the door behind her. No use encouraging bad habits. 

* * *

Sharing an office with Kya is a little bit more bearable after that. 

On the mornings they meet to plan their club, Kya comes armed with chai for two. The day for students to select their extracurriculars is rapidly approaching, and Lin and Kya need to finalize their plan of attack. 

It’s a simple enough premise, Lin finds out — teams of four built a model of their ideal City of the Future. They also have to write an essay and simulate their city online, in addition to describing why their creation is good for citizens while being environmentally sustainable. Students from schools across the country participate, competing for prize money and scholarships. 

“I can’t believe we’re supposed to recruit students to these clubs on our own,” Lin complains. She’s settled at her desk grading her latest exam — this one on the periodic table. 

“It’s not that bad. We can put up flyers and announce the competition to all our classes,” Kya proposes. “I’m sure at least a few people will want to sign up.” 

“Speak for yourself, Ms. Gyatso. These students have plenty of options. Why would they pick this one?” 

“It’s Kya,” she corrects again. “And because it’s fun? I dunno, I would’ve enjoyed something like this when I was younger. Would have been a good outlet for my creative side. Plus, what better way to impress girls than by showing them that you’re smart and handy?” She winks, wriggling her fingers. 

Lin blinks, is decidedly _not_ thinking about where those fingers have been before, instead forcing her gaze back up to Kya’s face. “That’s not — what — that’s beside the point,” she huffs. “I just hope we have enough sign-ups for a complete team.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kya soothes. “We’re likeable enough. We can cross that bridge if we get to it.” 

Lin remains unconvinced, slightly irritated that her colleague doesn’t seem to get it. “You know, at some point you’re going to realize that that patented charm of yours only gets you so far.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. 

“Well, well, well, Lin,” Kya’s grin widens dangerously. “You think I’m charming?”

“That’s — that’s not what I meant!” Lin sputters, and before she can look back up she’s uncomfortably aware of the other woman’s presence behind her. Kya places both palms on the back of the chair, lowering her head to Lin’s shoulder. Her elegant arms frame Lin’s face as she peers at the papers being scored.

“Oh, element groups. I remember these. Although I always used to wonder why Uranium and Iodine were so far apart.” 

“They have totally different properties,” Lin replies, perplexed. “Why would they be even remotely close to each other?” And just as she completes her sentence, she realizes — 

“Because if I could rearrange the elements, I’d put U and I together,” Kya finishes, her breath warm on Lin’s cheek, tingling in her ear. 

“You’re a menace,” Lin says, though her tone is less biting than she’d have liked. Kya straightens for a moment, then spins Lin’s chair around to face her. 

“Well then, you must be the litmus paper to my acid...”

“Don’t do this,” Lin warns. It goes unheeded. 

“...because every time I meet you you turn bright red.”

Lin briefly wonders if she has enough materials in her lab to clean up a crime scene and get away with it, but remembers that not having a body count is probably a pre-qualification for being a teacher. Still, a woman could dream…

* * *

Kya should have trusted Lin’s RCA teaching experience, because as it turns out, Lin’s worries are not completely unfounded. The following Tuesday, only four chairs in Lin’s classroom are occupied. Asami Sato and Mako Yin — two of Lin’s best students — are accompanied by Korra Rivers and Bolin Yin, Kya’s kids. 

Four pairs of eyes gaze eagerly up at Kya and Lin, awaiting instructions. 

“Is this, er, everyone?” Kya asks, uncertainly. 

“I’m not sure,” says Asami, “though I did hear something about a dance class and a celebrity visitor? So maybe that’s where folks have gone?” 

“Suyin,” Lin mutters under her breath. “Always showing off.” 

“Is it a problem?” asks Mako. “That there’s only us?” 

“Not at all,” Kya assures. “We’ll just have a more intimate group, and that means everyone will have to take on more responsibility. You’ll need to be like Iron Man and his friends — you’ll need to become good alloys.” 

She’s only watching Lin, who buries her face in her hands, but _everyone_ groans at this one.

Mission accomplished. 

* * *

They settle on meeting Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. 

In the first meeting, Kya takes charge and helps the students designate all the project roles and responsibilities. The full team gathers for the first few weeks to select a concept. The work hard at brainstorming — Lin even asks Baatar to lend them a few books on architecture — before selecting an idea, a city made entirely of metal. They call it Zaofu, based on a town in the Earth Kingdom rich in minerals and ore. 

Asami begins building the physical model, borrowing tools and picking up tips from her father. Bolin finds the online simulation surprisingly intuitive, and single-handedly reflects their creation on screen. Mako drafts an essay describing their vision for the city, and Korra proves herself to be a gifted speaker, who together with Mako crafts their presentation for the judges.

In all her years of teaching, Lin has never seen a group of students work so seamlessly, putting together ideas and prototypes so quickly. She approaches Asami, wondering why her brightest student had elected to participate in Lin and Kya’s tiny club.

“Honestly, I thought about joining Varrick’s robotics team at first,” Asami explains. “But they’re really strict about who joins, and, well… Korra didn’t make the cut. So many people don’t see how talented she is,” Asami continues fiercely. “I didn’t want to leave her on her own. And Bolin pretty much does everything Mako does, so I knew they were a package deal when I asked him to sign up. And I knew Ms. Gyatso would make sure everyone felt welcome.” 

Lin is struck by Asami’s thoughtfulness. That Kya’s characteristic openness has not gone unnoticed by the students fills Lin with a surprising warmth. For the very first time, she’s… glad? — is that the right word? — to have been paired with a teacher of Kya’s caliber. 

Lin smiles. “You’re absolutely right. We’re glad to have you. All of you.” 

Asami beams. 

* * *

By the time they get started working on the project in earnest, golden leaves and brisk mornings have given way to bare branches and early sunsets. 

Today, the scene from Kya’s office window is beautiful. Crystalline snowflakes drift aimlessly through the air, adding to the piles that had swiftly accumulated in the schoolyard overnight. The thick coating absorbs sound and makes her window seem like it’s playing a silent movie: students throwing snowballs at each other, giggling; teachers trudging along in their boots, hopscotching to avoid patches of invisible ice; Lin — _Lin?_ — Lin running from her car with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to get inside as quickly as possible. 

When Lin finally shows up at their office, she looks like a grouchy ice cube that’s only just begun to thaw. Her fingers are pale, face flushed and blotchy, teeth chattering behind chapped lips. Kya wants to kiss them anyway; wants to feel Lin’s skin warming under her gentle touch; wants to —

Wait, _what?_ Hadn’t she exorcised these feelings that first night? She doesn’t need this, doesn’t need — 

“Ms. Gyatso?” Kya realizes she’s been staring and scrambles to speak. 

“Looking for this?” Kya holds up Lin’s thick wool parka, matching gloves dangling out of the left pocket. 

“Give me that,” Lin says, reaching to snatch the coat from Kya’s grasp. “How did you know I was coming?” 

Kya merely gestures out the window. “It’s snowing, and you’re not wearing a jacket?”

“You know what it was like yesterday. Unseasonably warm. I left it here by accident; next thing I know, it’s morning and there’s two feet of snow on the ground.” 

“I like the snow,” Kya declares. “And the cold.”

“I know,” Lin shivers, rubbing her palms together and plugging in the space heater under her desk. “If you had it your way, this office thermostat would permanently be at 65 degrees.” 

“You know what else I like?” Kya continues. “Those furry white bears from where my mom grew up. You know why they dissolve in the water, right?”

“If you answer that question, I’m going to tell Izumi to set the temperature of just this office ten degrees higher tomorrow,” Lin threatens. 

Kya is undeterred. “Because they’re _polar_ bears!” 

“How do these get worse every time?” Lin looks adorably grouchy, like a kitten awoken from a exceptionally satisfying nap. 

“Some of them I come up with myself,” Kya says proudly. “Like that one. On the spot! Aren’t you impressed?”

“More like terrified of what happens when you exhaust your supply of readymade ones.” 

“That’ll never happen. I top up my reserve once a week.” 

“Will the torment never cease?” Lin theatrically buries her head on her desk, warmed-up hands retreating from the heater to cover her ears. 

Kya laughs. “And here I thought Su was supposed to be the dramatic sister.” 

“Oh, she is,” Lin guarantees. “Which is why you should be glad you’re only stuck with me.” 

“I’ll be seeing her again at the Winter Formal! I guess I can evaluate then if you’re right.” 

Lin sits up fully. “You’re going to Winter Formal?” 

“Yes?” Kya says, confused. “I thought all the teachers went?” 

“Of course she would tell you that,” Lin mutters. 

“What do you mean? Who would tell me what?” 

“Izumi said that, didn’t she? The little shi— she knows you’re new, and she’s taking advantage of you.” 

“Oh — Lin, I volunteered.” 

“You volunteered?” Lin’s expression is incredulous. “You’re voluntarily chaperoning a high school dance?”

“Yes?” Kya is beginning to feel concerned. “Are you okay? Did being out in the cold too long get to you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Chaperoning Winter Formal is a nightmare; it’s why Izumi has to rope me into helping her every year. 

“What’s so terrible about it?” 

“Well, let’s see,” Lin ticks off the problems on her fingers. “It’s a formal dress code. You have to show up at school outside of teaching hours for more work that’s disguised as a social activity, which makes it worse. You have several hundred pubescent teens in close quarters, all dressed up with nowhere for those feelings to go, and _we’re_ the ones who are supposed to make sure that hands stay in appropriate places and that the kids leave room for the spirits in between them when they _do_ dance.” She catches her breath. “Also, the punch isn’t even spiked. See the problem?” 

“Honestly, I wasn’t with you until that last one. But I don’t mind any of the other things,” Kya says. “Besides, we can have our own afterparty, complete with spiked punch,” she winks. 

“Whatever you say. You’ll be singing a different tune once you actually experience the hell that is a Republic City Academy high school dance.” 

“You do realize that I’ve been to other high school dances, right?” But Lin continues to insist these are a special kind of awful. 

“I’ll find you at the end of the dance, and you can let me know if you still feel the same way you do now,” Lin promises. 

“Sure,” Kya says. “But I don’t think I’m going to change my mind.” 

“Are you willing to bet on that?” 

“Absolutely. What are the stakes?”

Lin pauses to consider, stretching out the silence and absolutely reveling in Kya’s obvious interest. “If I win,” she says eventually, “then you can’t use any puns for a month.” 

Oh, so _that’s_ how it was going to be. “A _month?_ Lin, that’s harsh. So what’s my prize if I win?” 

“If you win, I will use a single pun. Science related. I choose when.” 

Kya beams like a child opening presents on her birthday. “Deal,” she says. “Shake on it?” 

Lin’s grip is firm, and Kya supposes she really wants to win, but then again. So does she.

* * *

The date of the formal rapidly approaches, and Lin intersperses mentoring the City of the Future team with shopping trips to pick out a new outfit. Seeing as her last suit was so cruelly destroyed, she opts for a dark-green satin dress with a not-quite-daring slit up the leg. When the day finally arrives, she finds herself smoothing over the ensemble in her mirror one too many times before reminding herself that Kya probably doesn’t even care what she wears. 

She’s assigned check-in and door duty, and the time passes uneventfully enough. She doesn’t see Kya, and figures she must have arrived earlier than Lin — which would be unusual, but isn’t impossible to believe. 

Izumi saunters over when she finally has a break, greeting Lin with a wolf whistle and an unsubtle once-over. “Wow, Lin, you look good enough to eat,” she says unreservedly. “What inspired this particular get-up?” She stands closer, peering at Lin’s face. “And are you wearing… make-up?” 

“Shut up,” Lin says good-naturedly. “It’s the Winter _Formal,_ in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Maybe I just haven’t forgotten the _seven years_ in which you’ve never worn make-up to this event, my dear. I know you only wear make-up when you’re trying to impress someo— wait a second. Who’s the lucky lady? Or lad?” 

“Do you think for a moment, Izumi, that even if there was someone special, I would tell you?” 

Izumi looks laughably offended. “Excuse me! I would hope so!” 

“Well. Consider this my notice, then. I’m not telling.” 

“Fine,” she humphs. “Then you’re on dance floor duty. You can start by separating those two; they’ve been clinging to each other like limpets for the past half hour now.” Izumi points across the room and Lin squints to follow her finger, only to see Korra and Asami dancing together. 

“Aren’t they just friends?” 

“Really, Lin? I wouldn’t have presumed you to be small minded. No, we’re equal opportunity enforcers here, and leave room for baby Hei Bai is the rule for _all_ dancers, my friend.” 

Lin just shakes her head, and leaves to do as she is told. 

* * *

Kya’s glad Tenzin is chaperoning this year as well, if not for the mere fact that she didn’t want to show up alone to a school function with students in her formalwear (regardless of whether or not a certain science teacher would be there). 

“You ready?” her brother calls from the living room. 

“Just a moment!” she yells back, putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner. It matches her dress — a floor-length maroon ball gown that coordinates nicely with the matching accents on Tenzin’s suit. 

“You look beautiful,” she hears through the open door. It’s Pema, walking by with baby Ikki in her arms. 

Jinora trails her mother, at the age where she parrots everything her parents say. “Aunty Kya! Beautiful!”

“Thank you,” Kya says sincerely, smiling at the children. Ikki only gurgles and successfully tries to grab her aunt’s hair. “Uh uh uh! That took me forever, please give it back!” 

“Ikki!” Pema scolds. She loosens her daughter’s death grip and the tuft rejoins Kya’s natural wave down her back. She’s ditched the traditional bun today, instead holding the middle section together with a clip so the sides fall loose and delicately frame her face. 

“You really do look wonderful,” Tenzin compliments as she steps into her shoes (just flats — she tends to tower over everyone else in heels). 

“So do you, baby brother,” she returns. “You look real smart in your suit.” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” Pema says, pecking Tenzin on the lips before shooing them outside. “Drive safe!” 

Izumi is grateful to see them when they arrive. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “We don’t have nearly enough volunteers here this early. You’re tall, do you mind helping out with the last of the decorations? Then Tenzin, you can supervise the dance floor and Kya, just make sure no one spikes the punch.” Izumi fixes her with a glare. “And _don’t spike the punch_ _yourself._ ”

“That was _one time —_ ”

“Oh, save it.” Tenzin regards her curiously, but Kya waves him away. A story for later. 

Lin hadn’t been kidding when she’d said this was _work._ Watching students awkwardly fumble their way through an odd simulacrum of dancing is funny enough, but she wishes she had someone to chat with, someone to make jokes about the situation with her. Su drops by for a bit to keep her company, but is just as soon dragged away by Zhu Li for something or the other. Kya keeps watch but doesn’t spot Lin until the event is three-quarters through, saying something to Korra and Asami in the corner. 

She’s wearing a dress this time, and Kya doesn’t spot the slit until Lin turns and looks her in the eye. Kya’s grateful for the darkness for hiding the flush that’s surely enveloped her face by now. 

“You made it,” Lin strides over. Her lean, toned legs are on full display, the natural curve of her body accentuated by the satin. A definite upgrade from the plain white shirt, then. Kya is torn between wanting to slide her hands all over the smooth fabric, properly savoring this dress and the figure underneath, and wanting it in pieces on her bedroom floor. 

_Focus._ “I did, yes.” 

“You look… you look — I mean — wow.” Kya barely notices Lin stumbling through the words, too focused on watching Lin’s bare arms nervously tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She’s left it down today, and it’s longer than Kya would have predicted. She’s really glad this isn’t her standard hairstyle — Kya doesn’t think she’d survive the semester. 

Wait. Lin had been speaking to her, hadn’t she? “Oh? Oh, um. Thank you. That — green is a good color on you. Really good.” she manages. “And it’s definitely more wine-proof?” she adds lamely. “You know, you never let me pay for your dry cleaning.” 

She must’ve said the wrong thing, because all of a sudden Lin’s good mood seems to disappear. “That would have required you to actually speak with me afterwards, which you obviously weren’t interested in doing,” says Lin, her face inscrutable.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lin.” For the life of her, Kya doesn’t know what’s gotten Lin so worked up, what could possibly have gotten under her skin enough for her to act this way. She knows it's borne from a particularly nasty undercurrent in their relationship, one that’s resembles a pebble in her shoe — uncomfortable at the best of times, outright painful at its worst. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Lin says, inflection clipped and curt. “Have a nice night, Ms. Gyatso. Hope you enjoyed the punch.” 

And just like that, she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so WOW. i honestly did not expect the level of response this fic got, and i'm deeply grateful for your kudos and comments! they truly make my day (and are definitely instrumental in speeding up the writing process). 
> 
> this is (by far) the longest thing i've ever written, and seeing your ideas and theories (or even just knowing your favorite jokes!) has been so delightful. y'all are sweeter than 3.14 :)


	4. 102, 52, 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, today sucked. updating a little bit earlier than planned to hopefully help distract from the news with some mediocre puns.

Lin knows it’s a coward’s move, leaving. But staying would have meant completely breaking down, throwing her pride out the window and demanding answers that she’s not actually sure she wants to know. She’s almost running now, placing one foot in front of the other so fast she nearly trips, more than ready to check out entirely and put this entire nightmarish experience behind her. Kya might not ever speak to her again, but that’s okay. She needs to get _out of here,_ needs to escape _right this minute —_ she’s moving so quickly she completely misses the person entering the corridor from the door on her left, colliding with a delicate _whump_ against a soft torso encased in a shimmering maroon dress. 

Shit. She knows who both of those belong to. 

And Kya wastes no time, shutting the door behind her as she presses into Lin further, driving her backwards and cornering her against the wall. Lin tries to free herself, but Kya just angles against her harder — she’s deceptively strong, looking for all the world like an angry spirit who’s been gravely wronged. Lin can feel the wrath emanating from her in waves, breaking against what remains of Lin’s confidence. The longer Kya stands in front of her, furious and fierce, the more Lin wants to flee, hide in her car or her home or perhaps a swamp somewhere and never return. 

Lin wriggles again; it’s getting hard to breathe, for no reason other than the fact that Kya’s leaning against her chest. No other reason at all. Kya holds her still. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” she says, steel in her voice. 

“Let. Me. Go, Ms. Gyatso! You can’t keep me here, this is ridiculous. What are you, five?” 

“No, _I’m_ an adult, but I don’t think you are! What is your _problem?_ ” Kya finally explodes. “One moment I think we’re actually becoming friends, and I’m totally shut out the next. I know we got off to an awkward start; I know you probably never wanted to see me again after that night, but we’re colleagues now, and you have to deal with it, Lin. I thought you had finally seen the light, that we were getting along and you were ready to be a grown-up about things but — no. You waffle between kind of tolerating me and actively despising me, and _I can’t take it anymore._ ” In her entire (admittedly short) span of knowing Kya, Lin has never seen her composure this rattled. Her eyes are wet.

And just like that, Lin’s temper flares. How dare Kya try to manipulate her like this, with tantrums and tears? After what she’d done, how dare she come to Lin distraught and demanding explanations? 

“You thought _I never wanted to see you_ again?” Lin says incredulously. “After I put myself out there and left my phone number on that note asking you out?” She laughs, a choked, bitter thing. “I know you’re a science teacher, but I thought your reading comprehension was better than this.” 

“What are you talking about? What note?” Lin will give her this, she looks genuinely confused. 

“Don’t pretend, it doesn’t suit you. I know you got it because you received the message to pick up your clothes, clearly.” 

“I picked up my clothes because the front desk gave me a call! Not because of — because of some note!” 

Lin is acutely aware of how close Kya is standing, how her breath seems to be coming faster and faster as she defends herself against Lin’s accusations. Her eyes are wild, pupils dilated, fists clenched — was it really possible that Kya had just… never received the note? Wasn’t the simplest explanation always the most likely one? 

“You never got my message?” Lin says, more tentatively this time. “I left it right on the door!” 

“No! It must’ve fallen off when you shut the door and been swept up by housekeeping while I was gone to grab breakfast.”

“A convenient excuse.”

“Lin, I _swear_ I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I even lie about this?”

Kya’s right. Why would she lie? Lin’s anger abates abruptly, deflating like a popped balloon, replaced with dawning horror regarding her own behavior towards Kya. That whole first week when she’d barely spoken to her. All those days she’d avoided eye contact, deliberately taken the long way to her classroom, taken her work home to ensure she didn’t have to sit with Kya in their office… everything now just makes her seem awful and _rude_ , and it’s a wonder that Kya put up with her at all. 

“All this time, I thought…” she sputters. 

“Thought what? That I’d been ignoring you on purpose, making fun of you with my jokes, toying with your feelings like that? How could you think I’d be so cruel?” 

That awful feeling from earlier in the evening is back, except now Lin wants to run away, wants to leave and bury her head for a completely different reason. Kya had always been nothing but nice to her, and how had she repaid her? By being a complete ass. The expression on her face flickers like a television tuning in to the right channel — first horror, then shock, then anger, eventually settling on shame. 

Kya must be able to see through her, feel her tensing up, ready to flee, because she reaches out to grab Lin’s arm. Her fingers are soft, a gossamer touch on Lin’s bare skin. “Wait.” 

And Lin stops. She needs to hear this; deserves whatever punishment Kya metes out. She doesn’t expect mercy. Doesn’t want it. She looks up, awaiting the anger that would surely be on fully display on Kya’s agonizingly pretty face. Or perhaps it would be dismay. Or, worst of all, disappointment. 

But Kya’s face is for once completely unreadable. 

She ponders Lin for one protracted, excruciating moment, her mouth quirked into a frown, glare sharp enough to pierce armor. Lin knows she’s facing certain doom: about to be verbally excoriated, not getting out without her dignity shredded and in tatters on the ground. 

“I know how you can make it up to me.” Lin nearly misses the statement with how quietly Kya says it. 

“What?”

“I said, I know how you can make it up to me.” 

This was impossible. Kya was granting her a reprieve? Why? “How?” she says instead. 

“C’mere,” she says, and breaks their gaze as she firms her grip on Lin’s arm, dragging her along the narrow hallway at a rather alarming rate. 

“Where are you taking me?” Lin asks, even though realistically, she is in no position to be asking questions right now. 

“You’ll see,” Kya responds cryptically. It isn’t until their office comes into view that Lin is well and truly baffled. 

“You wanted to come _here?_ Why?” 

“Patience,” Kya says, letting go of Lin’s arm to fish the keys from her purse and unlock the door. Lin rubs her wrist, missing the warmth immediately. 

Kya doesn’t switch the lights on when they enter, and stops Lin when she tries. The dim lights from the courtyard filter in, turning everyday objects into oblique shadows. 

“Better not let anyone know we’re here.” 

“What exactly are we planning on doing?” Lin questions, curiosity piqued. Kya doesn’t respond, just unlocks the small cabinet by her seat with the other key on her ring. Lin has never noticed it before, and wonders what’s inside...

...and whatever she was expecting, it was definitely not this. Kya is cradling a bottle of baijiu — no, a bottle of _expensive_ baijiu — to her chest. “I got this as a thank you gift from Izumi for taking the job, but forgot to bring it home,” she explains, placing it down and rummaging through the contents of her desk for two coffee mugs. 

Kya pops the bottle and pours a generous measure into each cup. “Here,” she offers. Lin takes it obediently, still not fully registering what was happening here. 

“We’re drinking? Here? What if Izumi finds us?” 

“We are, which is why no one but me and you know we’re here. What Izumi doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Kya declares firmly. “And you’re not going to tell her. Are you?” 

“Of course not!” Lin responds indignantly. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says, quieter. 

“Then sit down,” Kya commands, unravelling a scarf and spreading it across the floor, placing the bottle beside it. 

“On the floor?” 

“Is that a problem?” 

Lin shrugs and sits down next to Kya, leaning against the cabinet for support. The dress makes the position especially uncomfortable, riding up and chafing her thigh, but Lin isn’t about to complain. 

“What are we doing here?” 

Kya moves to face her. “You,” Kya says, jabbing her finger into Lin’s chest, “thought the very worst of me for _months_. I,” she points to herself now, “thought you were just being a tool because you were embarrassed about sleeping with me.” 

It’s the first time either of them have brought up that night in civil conversation, Lin notes. Kya takes a sip of her drink, grimacing as she swallows. “Turns out I was right, in a way. But you were just embarrassed because you thought you’d put yourself out there and I didn’t feel the same way.” 

“And you think you have a solution?”

“Of course I do,” Kya counsels sagely. “After all, if you’re not the solution, you’re the precipitate.” 

“Are you kidding me right now? Be serious!”

“You’re right.” The pensive mask returns to Kya’s face. “The only way we prevent this from happening again is if we _communicate_ ,” Kya emphasizes, poking Lin again. “So we’re going to handle this like mature adults do, and drink until we can talk about this whole situation without cringing.” 

_“That’s_ your plan?” Lin is less than impressed. 

Kya ignores her. “We each get ten questions. You either answer with the truth or you pass and take a drink.”

“How would you know if I’m telling the truth?”

Kya scowls. “I’ll know. Wanna try me?” 

Lin doesn’t. She believes her. 

“Fine. I’ll go first. Why did you move to Republic City?” 

“Are you sure that’s what you want to start with?” Kya challenges. “That’s an easy one. Because Izumi needed a biology teacher last minute, I fit the bill, and I wanted to do her a favor.” 

“How do you two know each other, anyway? Did you go to Republic City University as well?” Lin regrets not quizzing Izumi sooner about these basic facts; wishes she’d known these answers already. 

“It’s technically my turn, and that counts as two questions, by the way. Izumi and I met in college. I went to the College of Agna Q’ela up north, where Izumi spent her junior year as an exchange student. We got along like a house on fire, and well, the rest is history.

“Okay, now I’ll go.” Kya looks directly at Lin. “Did you leave right after I fell asleep that night?” 

Lin looks down, fiddles with the clasp of her shoes. “I fell asleep. I only woke up in the morning, and you were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, and… and I wasn’t sure if you’d want me around,” she admits. 

“Was that the first time you’ve slept over with someone you’ve just met?” 

Lin stops, contemplates answering the question honestly, then decides she doesn’t want to reveal that information to Kya just yet. She tips the mug backwards instead, the baijiu burning pleasantly on its way down. 

“Playing coy, are we? Fine. One more from me. Do you usually date women?” 

Lin shrugs. “Sometimes. Men, women, neither, and everything in between — I don’t really discriminate.” She smirks. “It wasn’t my first time with a woman, if that was what you were asking.”

“That was very clearly not what I was asking, and you know it. Your go,” she says, nudging Lin. 

“Have you ever had feelings for Izumi?” Kya nearly chokes with how quickly she downs her portion. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“You can take that as an _I don’t want you to know the answer to that,_ ” Kya sputters, coughing. “Why, have you?” 

“Touche,” Lin responds, taking a plentiful gulp. “Do you date only women?”

“Pretty much exclusively,” Kya affirms, then stops to consider. “Unless you count the boy who asked me to marry him in kindergarten? I said yes, but only if I didn’t have to wear a dress. He didn’t want to marry me after that.” 

Lin has to laugh at that. “You still have something against dresses? I’d be sad to hear it. That blue one looked pretty nice.” She wants to clamp her hands over her mouth as soon as the words escape — it’s as close to a compliment as Lin has gotten since the party, and it hangs thickly in the atmosphere between them, threatening to overwhelm whatever _this_ is. 

“That counts as a question. No, not as long as it’s the right dress.”

“Ah.”

Kya, apparently tired of crossing her legs, shifts to tuck both under her. “Before me, when was the last time you’d spent the night with someone?” Lin glares at her, takes a final sip before reaching across Kya to grab the bottle and refill her cup. Her elbow brushes Kya’s chest, and Lin feels Kya shiver before she can move her arm. Lin tries to forget, but her brain has already committed that little motion to memory, cataloged alongside the hundred other memories she has from their single night together — Kya under her, Kya nestled between her legs, Kya’s mouth on hers — 

Kya chuckles, disrupting her reminiscing. “Bit of a dry spell, Chief?” 

That nickname, delivered so affectionately and yet so cruelly from Kya’s lips, evidently short-circuits Lin’s brain. For several moments, Lin just stares, struggling to remember the question, until — oh, right. Kya was making fun of her. “Oh, stop.” 

“Hey, no judgement. Okay, enough of the boring stuff. I want gossip. Have you ever had a crush on any of your coworkers?” Kya waggles her eyebrows comically. 

Ugh. Lin hated dredging up the past, but, “I may have had a teeny-tiny, insignificantly small crush on Tenzin when I started teaching,” she allows. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Is that one of your questions?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of all the people, Lin, my _brother_? Really?” 

“Tenzin is your _brother?_ Our Tenzin, History Tenzin? _”_ Though now that she thinks about it — 

“Lin, we have the same last name —” 

“I didn’t want to assume —” 

“I’ve mentioned him like twice a week in our conversations —”

“I thought it was just a really common name —”

“Who did you think I was talking about?” 

“Some other Tenzin?” Lin says weakly, scratching her head. “I guess I never put the pieces together. 

“Ew, I need to scrub that mental image from my head. You and Tenzin, yuck, yuck, yuck.”

“There is no mental image!” Lin protests. “Nothing happened! Besides, he’s married now anyway.” 

“Thank goodness! What, otherwise you’d have snatched him up?”

This line of questioning is getting out of hand. “Okay, okay, me again.” Lin wracks her brain for a good question; something that she truly wants to know. “Have you ever been in love before?” 

Kya had responded to all the other questions pretty much instantly, but this one causes her to still. 

She tops up her cup and takes a swig. 

“Feeling mysterious, huh?” 

Kya hums. “No, just feeling private.” 

“Are you even keeping score?” Lin is beyond tipsy by now, and Kya is surely feeling the effects too. The baijiu is strong, and Lin can identify intimately every single point where Kya’s thighs and soft, soft skin are touching hers. She resists the urge to place her hand there, focusing on Kya’s voice to ground her instead. 

“Of course I am. See, I’m even feeling generous. I’ll let you go again, and won’t count that one against you.”

There’s only one thing Lin really wants to know at this point, and she’s just drunk enough to ask. 

“Would you have called me if you’d found the note?” 

Kya drains the dregs of her refill but doesn’t bother moving away from Lin’s side. Lin is simultaneously thrilled and disappointed — Kya is warm and solid against her, but she’d actually hoped for an answer on that one.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Kya says, still leaning on the cabinet but turning to face Lin. She places her hand tenderly on Lin’s cheek, thumb caressing her chin, working silk-soft up-and-down patterns that threaten to drive every rational thought from Lin’s brain. She smells like that faint floral perfume she wears to work and baijiu, and Lin wonders if she’ll be able to taste it on her too. Her lips look even fuller illuminated by the soft, dim light, and gods, Lin wants nothing more than to touch them, feel them on her body, kiss her again. She could do it if she wanted to, she knows. If she seizes the moment and closes the fraction of an inch that divides them. She feels, rather than sees, that Kya is so incredibly, wondrously, tantalizingly close. 

For a moment — one single, solitary breath — it looks like Kya might want that too, meeting her gaze when—

 _Bang!_ The sound of a door slamming shut reverberates through the tiny space. 

“What was that?” Lin nearly jumps up, but Kya tugs her arm, holding her down to the ground.

Kya swears. “Stay down! We can’t get caught drinking on school premises. It’s the night cleaning crew — I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” Lin glances at the clock — the dance has long since ended. Kya stuffs the alcohol in her purse as Lin rolls up the scarf on the ground and replaces it with the mugs back on the desk. 

“Unlock your phone, I’m adding in my number. Go ahead and leave first, then text me if the coast is clear,” Kya instructs. “Get a cab; you shouldn’t drive. And text me when you’re home.” 

Lin follows as if in a daze, checking for janitors before helping Kya make her own getaway. She waits until she gets home safely to text Kya again, who’s saved herself down as Barium+Beryllium. 

Of course she would. 

_Home safe. You?_

It’s another twenty minutes before her phone buzzes with a notification, which Lin opens embarrassingly quickly. 

_same._

Lin replies before she can think too hard about her response. _Thanks for being patient with me tonight._

Three dots filled the screen for what feel like an eternity. 

_u know me. cool as an endothermic reaction._

_Who says that?_ Lin demands. _And was this just your way of orchestrating a plot to get my number and harass me with terrible jokes via text?_

_if i said no, would u believe me?_

_...honestly, it would be difficult. It seems to be_ exactly _something you would do._

 _then i’m almost sorry to admit that this was_ not _premeditated._

 _Sure it wasn’t,_ Lin grumbles, but concedes the point. She’s done more than her share of disbelieving Kya. _You know, I never thought I’d admit this, but you were right. Maybe dances aren’t as awful as I thought they were._

 _lin!!!!_ Lin can practically feel her phone vibrating with Kya's excitement. _are you saying what i think you’re saying???!_

_Yes. Now let me get some rest so I can properly think about which pun (you get one — only one!) I’m going to grace you with._

_oooh, are you going to tell me which one tomorrow?_

_Patience,_ Lin advises. _All in good time. It’s no fun if it’s not a surprise, is it?_

 _true,_ Kya accepts. _btw, tenzin drove me to the formal. i know u left ur car at school — want me to give u a lift in the am?_

It _would_ be a lot more convenient than having to schedule another taxi. She says so in her response, along with a quick thanks. 

_good. be ready by 730, bc we both know im not getting there earlier. oh, and chief?_

Lin feels the butterflies in her stomach awaken at Kya’s second use of the moniker that night, tries to tamp them down to no avail. Was this going to be a recurring problem? 

_Yes?_

_let’s try not to get caught next time._

Next time? 

And damn it, despite herself, Lin smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, hope those of you in DC are staying safe.  
> second - happy new year! thanks again for all the comments and engagement - it is so much fun to see all your theories and guesses! keep 'em coming :)  
> third - the next update might be a week and a half or so in the making, but i then hope to set up a weekly posting schedule (and have an actual estimate for the chapter count, lol). stay tuned!
> 
> p.s. i couldn't for the life of me figure out a way to finagle this into the actual chapter text without it seeming forced, but kya's number is +1 (618) 033-9887, and lin's is (602) 214-0760 ;)


	5. 5, 92, 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy 4k of these idiots in love after an accidental two month hiatus

They make it to school on time the next morning, which Lin considers nothing short of a minor miracle. Kya rolls up outside her door at seven thirty-five (five minutes later than planned), bookbag bundled in the back seat and an insulated tumbler in the cup holder.  _ Hands off,  _ it proclaims,  _ this isn’t your cup of tea. _

“Hey,” Kya says, smiling, eyes crinkling at the edges. Lin nearly trips at the sight. 

She manages to clamber in with an undignified squawk instead. “You’re late,” she complains. 

“I drive fast,” Kya assures. 

Lin swears under her breath, then mutters a quick prayer in the hopes of getting there in one piece. There are a few blessed moments of silence as they cruise out of the neighborhood, and she takes the opportunity to contemplate and observe — Kya’s practical SUV is messy but not dirty, just like her office. Alongside the bookbag lie piles of unmarked lab reports, grocery bags from a local supermarket filled with — Lin squinted to read — fish food? Of course Kya would keep fish, the easiest pets, she seemed scarcely able to take care of  _ herself  _ some of the time—

\--but she’d been more than capable of doing so last night, when she’d somehow gotten them both in  _ and  _ out of trouble, sneaking around the building like they were teenagers and not fully-grown women who were supposed to be their role-models — and none of it had really mattered when Kya, resplendent in that shimmering-red ball gown, had curled up against her leg and tilted her face just so. What had she been thinking? Kya had never really answered her last question, has she? But they’d been so  _ close _ , and it had seemed like Kya —

—the car merges onto the highway, swerving slightly, when Lin realizes that it’s been quiet for quite a while —  _ too  _ quiet. She spies Kya glancing at her side (to ensure a trapped audience, no doubt), taking a breath to regale her with what is surely some kind of ill-conceived idea of something funny. 

“Let me tell you a story,” Kya begins.

“Oh no—” Lin pauses, examining the choices that have led her up to this moment, regretting them all — from getting too drunk last night to drive home to not calling a cab this morning.

“Hey! You don’t know what I’m going to say. It could be something important.”

“Why do I get the feeling that that’s unlikely?” Lin shrugs. 

Kya glares at her. “Let me tell you a story,” she restarts, ever the opportunist, “of two scientists named Heisenberg and Schrodinger driving together, just like us right now, when they get pulled over by a police officer. ‘Sir,’ the officer says to Heisenberg, who’s in the driver’s seat. ‘You were driving awfully recklessly. Do you even know how fast you were going?’ To which Heisenberg replies, ‘no, but I can tell you exactly where I was.’ ‘You were doing ninety in a fifty-five!’ the cop explains, and Heisenberg throws his hands in the air. ‘Great. Now I’m lost.’”

“The officer decides this answer is suspicious enough to provide grounds for searching the car, so he circles back to the trunk and pops it open, only to exclaim in horror. ‘Sir!’ he says, ‘did you know you have a dead cat back here?’ And Schrodinger calls back, unperturbed— ‘I didn’t, but now I do!’” 

“That was horrible,” Lin declares. “Also, it’s a common misconception, but Schrodinger was really trying to prove that there were flaws in the latest quantum mechanics theories; he didn’t actually think that a cat could be dead  _ and  _ alive—” 

“Nerd.” Kya’s grin showcases all her teeth. 

“There’s a saying about pots and kettles,” Lin scowls, contemplating whether unlocking the door and stepping out at sixty miles an hour would be worth it. Probably not. Too messy. 

Luckily, the rest of the ride is less painful — Kya takes pity on her and lays off the jokes (if they can accurately be called that), and instead they talk about their favorite (and least favorite) students, their opinions on other teachers, and general schoolyard gossip (which Lin possesses quite a lot of, to Kya’s visible astonishment). It’s not her fault students and teachers alike take one look at her gruff exterior and treat her like window dressing, forgetting she’s there and loosening their lips to speak entirely too freely. 

But Kya doesn’t do that. It’s remarkably easy with her, in the way it so rarely is, and Lin can feel them standing on a knife-edge, at the precipice between acquaintances-who’d-slept-together and colleagues-bordering-on-friends. Which is not to say that she has plenty of experience with the former, but the latter? The latter is something precious, blooming as rarely as _tan hua,_ and Lin wants it, craves it viscerally like a warm bath after a day spent on her feet at the chalkboard. 

When they finally get to school, Kya holds the door open and beckons Lin through. Her side brushes against Kya’s chest, the soft cashmere of her sweater a gentle caress against Lin’s arm. She thinks she hears a small gasp, but surely it must be her overactive imagination. Kya, for all her purported eagerness last night, is surely regretting her overtures — has almost certainly written it off as a drunken mistake, Lin’s decided. Why else wouldn’t she have brought it up this morning? And Lin — well, Lin’s not about to ask. She’d taken a chance, put herself out there, asked Kya that silly-stupid-brave question, and Kya had chosen not to reply. Lin would respect that. 

That’s not to say that it isn’t hard. At the teacher’s meeting that afternoon, as Izumi drones on about clubs and dances and other things that she’s sure are not as vitally important as figuring out exactly how Kya gets her hair to be quite so shiny — something awful happens. Kya catches her in the act. 

Their eyes meet, Kya’s gaze unflinching as she smirks — lazy, catlike, a predator honing in on its helpless, ensnared prey. 

“See something you like?” Lin wants to tell her to shut up, to tell her to stop hamming it up for the audience. Izumi and Su would be absolutely unbearable if they noticed (if they haven’t already), and Lin very much does not want them to see the reactions Kya is able to solicit from Lin just through sheer force of wishful thinking.

And she shouldn’t wish, Lin knows, because consorting with a colleague is always bad news. The fact that she’d slept with Kya even once was unfortunate. For it to happen again, with both parties’ full knowledge and consent… she’s seen this scene play out before, and she has no intention of getting burned. 

Lin needed to get a hold of herself, and soon. 

* * *

Kya feels something shift the night after the dance. With the veil of misunderstanding lifted, Lin seems to see her in a new light. They’d shared a drink — a few drinks, really — and actually talked. Sure, Lin is still assiduously guarded and strangely coy, but who said adjusting to seeing your presumed one-night-stand on a daily basis would be easy? Kya would have been more surprised had Lin been more pliable. 

And in that final moment, when Lin had so boldly asked the question that Kya was now desperate to answer, the situation had slipped from her grasp. So while there were still some things that they hadn’t talked about, it was… it  _ is _ good. And good things are worth waiting for, should be fed and nurtured and allowed to bloom on their own time. It’s not worth risking their delicate detente to plow forward like she always does, not when Lin is unlike anyone she’s ever met before. Unlike anyone she’s really  _ liked  _ before. 

There’s no rush, and she has a hunch that she’s one of the few people who gets to peer through the armor to see  _ flustered  _ Lin. So she decides she isn’t going to force the moment — once they become friends properly, there would be time enough to become something more. More than enough to explore whatever  _ this  _ was between them right now. 

Though honestly, the right moment might arrive sooner if not for Kya’s knack for walking into their office at the most awkward times. Once, she’d caught Lin talking to herself as she inventoried her supplies, fingers flexing around the jar of iron filings as if she could make the metal obey her very hands. 

Another time, she’d caught Lin long after the final bell, shoes off, grading with her socked feet on the desk and reading glasses sliding down her nose. After that, Kya changes their office printer settings so all the worksheets print out just a smidge smaller — just enough to coax out those glasses more often. Because hey, she’s only human. 

This time, however, Kya walks in to find Lin huddled on the floor next to a lab bench. Instantaneously, instinctually, she knows something’s wrong. 

She sprints through the office doorway into the classroom, crouching down to join her, knees making contact painfully with the floor. “Lin?” she asks. Lin just groans in response. Oh, this could be so bad — she doesn’t know what the issue is, and Lin seems to be in too much pain to tell her, and they’re in a chemistry lab, which is just a little shop of horrors and accidents waiting to happen— 

_ Breathe, _ she reminds herself. Panicking here won’t serve her or Lin. 

“Lin,” she tries again, “what’s wrong?” Kya’s gaze moves to the clear, steaming liquid surrounding them, an empty graduated cylinder nearby. It could be water, Kya thinks, or any one of the corrosive acids that lined the shelves nearby. She sincerely hopes it isn’t a chemical burn, and there’s only one way to find out quickly. 

Lin clutches her abs tighter. “Lin. I need you to focus,” layering her voice with comfort and calm. “What did you spill?” 

“Water,” Lin croaks finally, “boiling water.” 

Shit. Better than some of the alternatives, but still bad. Kya reaches out to uncurl Lin’s hand from her front, noting the warm stain on her blouse. Lin groans again where Kya’s finger accidentally brushes her stomach. 

“If you burned yourself, sweetie, this needs to come off.” The endearment slips out unnoticed, Kya’s caretaker brain assuming control. “How long ago?” she asks. “When did this happen?” Amidst the fog of her pain, Lin only registers the question when Kya tugs at the hem of Lin’s blouse, the movement jarring her into finally answering. 

“Right before you walked in—  _ ow _ ,” Lin replies, her words punctuated with an agonized gasp. “It hurts,” she whimpers. 

“I know it does,” Kya says patiently. “Can you help me get this off?” She tugs on Lin’s blouse again, Lin raising her arms to help Kya guide the offending garment off. She moves quickly, hoping that it isn’t too severe; that Lin isn’t hurting too much; that it won’t scar too badly. She wishes for a second, idly, that her mother were here. 

“This needs to come off too,” Kya says, indicating the white undershirt. With another tug, Lin's torso is exposed. But there’s no time to feel uncomfortable. With a trained eye, Kya gives her a swift once-over, observing the scale of the burn. She’s lucky — only her stomach has been scalded, and not critically enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, she thinks. Kya could take this for now. 

She picks Lin up with ease, shuffling to the emergency shower while supporting her head and knees. Once they’re both situated under the faucet, and before Lin can protest, Kya tugs the handle to start the flow. 

* * *

The first splash of ice-cold water is enough to temporarily dull the pain and jolt Lin to her senses. She slides herself out of Kya’s (surprisingly stro— Lin,  _ not now _ ) grasp, landing on the ground with a wet splash. The impact hurts; she winces. “What are you doing?” she hisses. 

“Cooling the burn. Saving you from scarring. I didn’t know how severe it was — you were lucky, it looks like the water hadn’t quite boiled before you spilled it on yourself.” Kya reaches out a hand to help her up, and Lin takes it, if only because the floor is so slippery. Kya’s fingers slot through hers. 

Lin yanks the handle with her free hand to turn off the flow. The whole incident had transpired in just a few short minutes, and while there had been too much going on to feel embarrassed before, both Kya and Lin pinpoint at the same time just how disheveled they look. 

Lin is standing in just a fully soaked bra, slacks, and shoes, abdomen an angry red from the burns. Kya, while still clothed, is similarly drenched. The wet clothes cling to her figure like a second skin, highlighting her long legs and revealing those perfect contours. Lin swallows, unconsciously following the lines of Kya’s body, feeling a now familiar sensation coiling in her stomach. 

“You can let go of my hand now,” Kya says, studiously avoiding eye contact with Lin — and  _ oh _ , had she been holding on? For the first time, Lin marvels at Kya’s face turning red. For the longest while, she’d simply believed that flushes weren’t visible on her deep brown skin. It’s very becoming, and — seriously, was there an off switch for her brain? If getting half doused in boiling water couldn’t cure her, she wasn’t sure what could—

“You might — er, here.” Kya shucks her jacket and hands it to Lin, still steadfastly not meeting her gaze. “It’s wet, but um. You can’t wear tight clothes over that burn, so.” Lin recognizes Kya’s stammering as a way of coping with embarrassment from the last time they’d been in this position, but her flustered state is infinitely more endearing now that she knows her better. 

“Thanks.” Lin fastens the wrap around her torso and clears her throat. “For, uh. Everything. It could’ve been a lot worse if you hadn’t been there.” She uses the bar stool to pull herself up, leaning heavily on the table to stay upright. “Although why you’re so intent on spilling things on me, I will never understand.” 

“Maybe I just like getting you wet,” Kya winks —  _ winks?!  _ — and Lin is fairly certain her resulting flush has traveled down her body. She’s suddenly very thankful indeed for the coat. 

Kya pauses for a beat, before offering her hand again. “You can come to my car with me, now. Come on, I’ll help you walk down.” 

Lin slinks further against the table. “What? Why would I come with you to your car?” 

“Because I have a first aid kit, and unless you want to wait to see the school nurse next to a seven-year-old with a bloody nose, I recommend you do as I say. Come with me to my car,” she repeated, “and then you’re heading straight home. I’m driving you. No, that is not up for discussion.” 

Kya could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, she finds, intrigued but not necessarily surprised. “Fine,” Lin concedes, accepting the proffered hand while maneuvering herself into leaning against Kya, Kya’s arm slung delicately around Lin’s waist for support. “But I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home—”

Lin’s halfhearted protests die down as she stumbles to match Kya’s stride, accidentally burying her nose in the taller woman’s neck. Kya smells somehow both salty and sweet, like a combination of ocean spray and morning dew. She’s making stuff up, Lin knows. It sounds horrifically sappy, even in her head. More likely than not, it was just the chemicals in the emergency shower, replaced who-knows-how-long ago, and she retracts her nose before Kya can catch Lin sniffing her like a complete creep. 

Apparently Kya’s figured out the floor plan of the school by now, because she manages to avoid the most heavily-trafficked hallways, and for that Lin is grateful. At least they’re in between periods, with most of the students in class. She doesn’t know what she’d do if someone saw her in this state — getting caught like this would be worse than the burns, that’s for sure. 

There is one thing, however, that she wants to know, that she’s been curious about since Kya swooped in to help. “How did you know what to do? You jumped in right away.” 

“I watch a lot of TV shows set in hospitals. I’ve seen every episode of  _ Atuat’s Healing Hut  _ because honestly, have you  _ seen  _ the actress who plays Hei-Ran—”

Lin rolls her eyes. “Can you be serious for one minute?” 

“Biology major. We’re good at everything related to the body.” Kya glances at her. “I’m kidding. I really didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m a doctor.”

_ “What?”  _ It made sense that Kya was interested in medicine — there was some overlap with biology for sure — but for her to have completed an entire degree before getting a teaching certificate? That didn’t happen often. How much could this woman continue to surprise her? 

“Is that really so hard to believe? I went to medical school after college, but dropped out before residency. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” And as if to reassure her physically of the fact, Kya shores up her grip on Lin, tightening her arm around her waist. 

Lin squirms, and Kya immediately loosens her hold. As if to apologize, she asks, “What did the thermometer say to the graduated cylinder?

Lin turns to stare, Kya’s sparkling eyes very close and  _ very  _ diverting. “What are you talking about?”

“The water you spilled — it was in a graduated cylinder, right?”

“I still don’t understand—” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. Just think about it — what did the thermometer say to the graduated cylinder?” 

Lin can’t believe she’s doing this, but she plays along, distracting herself from the pain and the possibility of being seen. She wracks her brain — why would Kya bring this up now? What did this have to do with anything—

—and then she groans. “You may have graduated,” she starts, “but I’ve got many degrees.”

Kya has never looked more delighted. Lin is simultaneously thrilled at making her smile and appalled at herself for figuring it out. Puns.  _ Blech. _

They reach the parking lot and Kya unlocks her car, folds down the passenger seat and sits Lin in the back. She moves to retrieve the first aid kit from her trunk, gesturing for Lin to unravel her wrap in the meantime. 

Lin hesitates. When she hasn’t removed it by the time Kya comes back around, it becomes evident that the older woman’s seemingly infinite reserves of patience are running out. “Chief,” she says, “don’t be ridiculous. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Lin removes her clothes as instructed. 

“Now hold still,” Kya directs, as she grabs her phone and snaps a picture of Lin’s burn. 

“Hey!” Lin shouts, scrambling to cover herself. “What are you doing? Why are you  _ photographing  _ me?!”

“Relax,” Kya says. “I’ll delete it in a second. I needed to text my mom — she’s the real doctor in the house.”

“ _ Another  _ doctor? Really?” 

“Who do you think inspired me? She’s the head of OB/GYN at Republic City General Hospital. Medschool was a long time ago; I need to make sure that you’re going to be okay and that you don’t actually need to go in. Don’t worry, she’s very discreet.” 

Great. She’ll be stripping in front of two members of Kya’s family today. Maybe she should call Tenzin over from the History department, too — what was one more? 

* * *

“There we go,” Kya says, unrolling the last of the bandage around Lin’s stinging abdomen. “I confirmed with my mom that you don’t need to go in to get checked. Just rest for a few hours, take a painkiller if you need it, and make sure you avoid direct exposure to sunlight.” 

In fact, Katara had said more than that.  _ Who’s the pretty girl?  _ she’d asked, because apparently her mother was incapable of understanding the fact that Kya could have  _ friends _ who were  _ girls  _ who were not in fact her  _ girlfriend.  _ Kya had pointedly ignored the question, fully aware that she’d pay the price at their next family dinner with her parents and Tenzin and the kids. The sacrifices she made for this woman—

“...aww, you’ve ruined my plans to go sunbathing on the roof this afternoon,” she hears, turning to see Lin’s deadpan expression. 

“Was that  _ another  _ joke, Chief?” Kya says elatedly. “Twice in one day! You’re learning! It’ll be good practice for that pun you owe me, don’t think I’ve forgotten.” Lin looks ready to protest, so she hastily tacks on, “And no, nothing you’ve said today counts so far, it has to be an  _ original. _ ”

Kya’s phone pings.  _ Kyaaaaaaaaa,  _ Katara’s message whines, followed by a gif of a pouting cat. Kya really regrets teaching her mother how to get more creative with her texting — now the family groupchat was just a constant barrage of memes followed by laughing emojis, usually at Tenzin’s expense. They could hardly be blamed, he was just so easy to bully—

_ Ding!  _ Another little bubble pops up.  _ You can’t ignore me forever. But if you’re with that cute girl from the photo, I suppose I can forgive you— _

“Who’s that? Is that your mom again?” Lin questions, curious, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of her phone. Kya covers the screen with her fingers as fast as Jinora would cover her mouth after eating something she shouldn’t — she does  _ not  _ need Lin to see how embarrassing her family was. 

“No one,” Kya replies, changing the subject a little too quickly. Lin looks suspicious, but thankfully says nothing. “I mean it, though. No strenuous activity for the next few days. No tight clothes, obviously. And take the rest of today off.”

“I really can drive myself home—” 

“I’m driving you,” Kya says firmly, in a tone that brooks no questions. “You need to rest. And I can pick you up tomorrow morning so you can get your car.”

“—all right,” Lin agrees, still dressed in Kya’s oversized wrap.  _ It looks good on her,  _ Kya thinks absently.  _ Maybe one day she’ll want to keep it.  _

* * *

On her way back, Kya is an especially measured driver, taking time to brake slowly at stoplights and ensure a smooth ride. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Lin says. “I could have gotten a taxi.” She could probably count on one finger the number of people who’d be willing to do this for her; to help her out like this. How was it that someone she’d met a few short weeks ago was quickly becoming this important to her? 

“I know.” Kya states simply. 

“I mean it; you really didn’t —” 

“Stop saying that! It’s the fourth time you’ve brought it up. I know, but I wanted to. I wanted to help.” 

“Why?” Lin studies her with guarded eyes. 

Kya doesn’t reply immediately, rolls to a stop outside of Lin’s place. “This you?” 

Lin unbuckles. “Yes. But you didn’t answer my question.” 

Kya is silent for a long moment. “Because I thought we were friends,” she finally answers, uncertainty lacing her tone. “And that’s what friends do.” 

Lin stops gathering her things to look up at Kya. Thanks to all her bravado, Lin has forgotten that Kya is essentially new to town — though she’d grown up here, she hadn’t lived here in over a decade. Lin, who’s lived in the same place her whole life, can’t imagine what it must be like to uproot yourself and go where the tide takes you every few years. There’s comfort in the familiar, in traditions and being surrounded by the same people and places and in things remaining relatively unchanged over time. She definitely can’t imagine what it must be like to have to meet new acquaintances and make new friends every time to boot. 

Lin recognizes that look well. Kya, for all her seeming extraversion and popularity, is lonely. 

Maybe they weren’t that different after all. 

So she does the only thing she can think of in this situation, and graces Kya with a rare smile. “You’re right.” It’s difficult to cope with the idea of Kya being upset, Kya hurting, Kya alone. “That’s what friends do. Thanks for the ride.” 

Kya smiles back. “Pick you up tomorrow?” 

Lin shuts the door, peers through the open window. “Sure, Ms. Gyatso.” 

“Oh, we’re still doing that, are we? Okay then, Ms. Beifong. Are you made of copper? Because I Cu carpooling with me in the future —”

“That was  _ not  _ an invitation —” 

But Kya is already laughing at her own joke and driving away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering (and I am sure no one is) where the baijiu mentions came from (it used to say tequila), it’s because I retconned what they were drinking in Chapter 4 as I remembered that in _my_ fic, Republic City is not proto-New York, but rather based on Hong Kong or Shanghai or the like. And while the argument can be made that those are very cosmopolitan places that have cosmopolitan (read: varied and international) tastes, they already had sangria in Chapter 1, so I’m changing it up. 
> 
> many MANY apologies for the long wait in between chapters. I've realized that promising an update schedule until I have more chapters banked is not a great idea. I can't promise when the next update will be up, but don't hesitate to comment or ping me on tumblr to ask (I don't mind, and I'll let folks know if it gets to be too much!) 
> 
> ANYWAY I'm guessing this fic will likely be 10-12 chapters when complete, so stay tuned! as always, your comments and feedback are so appreciated <3 also, please let me know if you enjoyed the long form heisenberg/schrodinger joke - my sister says it's terrible; i disagree. oh also - those fake phone numbers in the last chapter note were the golden ratio and avagadro's number, in case you were wondering ;) 
> 
> @van- tysm 5ever

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one-shot and kind of... grew. Was this an exercise in ridiculousness? Yes. Was it an excuse to cram as many science jokes as possible into a fic? Also yes. I'm so sorry
> 
> more to come. in the meantime, have fun with the chapter title ;) or play the lottery with it. your choice.


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